


balance

by creabimus



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 18:36:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13507437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creabimus/pseuds/creabimus
Summary: Nott shields Caleb from certain death.





	balance

Among the alleyways, the pawnshops of glittering invaluable things, the cobblestone roads and horse drawn carts of luxury, Nott has found herself uncertain and drawn back into the shadows and their protection. Caleb, ragged wordsmith of certain prophecies, has been a constant thus far. How long, oh, she has forgotten. The wells only go so deep.

Her porcelain mask, askew, now, presses cold against the side of her face; the cheekbones could meld together like this, so perhaps she herself might become porcelain soon enough. Her heart thuds. A door slammed in her face. Another one opened and allowing the winter breeze access into a small in room carved from the shell of safety.

Her vision blurs. Yet the shadows taunted her to begin with, so perhaps, a small part of her suggests, this isn't a change at all. This isn't a change. She is here. Caleb is here. They are, as they always will be, together. The end of the world they would have reached eventually.

Eternity focuses its beady eyes at her back.

A hand wraps around her heart and squeezes, her lungs threaten to burst between her ribs, but the invasion of bone into her organs is preferable to this, to her dearest friend reaching the end without her.

Not without her.

Her hands curl into the fabric of his coat. Her teeth mash against each other with each shake of her body and barely mis her tongue and the instead of her cheeks. Tears drip off her nose. She counts three before she forgets to care.

Night is a shroud. But not for her. Not for them. For them, it wraps around their shoulders like a shimmering cloak of possibility. Porcelain breaks eventually. She is not ashamed of who she is. How privileged she is to have met someone like him. How privileged she is to be able to save him from the laughing fates.

What is true always changes. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @iugias


End file.
